


Left Here in Darkness

by Emoryems



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-04
Updated: 2011-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emoryems/pseuds/Emoryems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The New Directions crew are worried about Kurt and his happiness at Dalton, and decide to stage an intervention of sorts. It doesn't go how they had hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Here in Darkness

 

When Kurt slides out of his Navigator – which, considering the weekend commute between Dalton and Lima, is a practical allowance on his father’s part – the brisk air of early February is just biting enough to make him dig his nose deep into the scarf artfully wrapped around his neck.  It feels great to be out of his Dalton uniform, even if it was only for the ride home.

 

His house, the one he’s lived in for his entire life, looks empty from the outside, and no movement can be seen within the living room through the front window.  Kurt isn’t really surprised, especially considering that his father had warned him that he, Carole and Finn would be out house-hunting this afternoon.  Kurt tries not to feel left out, and really, he knows that he has final vetoing powers on any house they might find, no matter how much his dad protests otherwise.

 

When he gets the door open, closed (and locked, because there is no way in _this_ town that he is risking anything) behind him, and has carefully peeled off his knee-high boots that cover his, admittedly ass-popping, skinny jeans, Kurt lets out a sigh and the tension in his shoulders drains.  Home, finally. 

 

The living room is as empty as he had thought, and there is a letterman jacket slung haphazardly over one of the arms of Finn’s fathers’ armchair.  Not being able to just leave it there, Kurt walks over, picks it up, and makes his way to the kitchen, and then down the stairs to what has, for the most part, become Finn’s room. 

 

At about the fourth stair down, Kurt hears something, and nearly jumps.  The noise is gone before he can identify it, and his heart starts to pound hard and fast in his chest.  He’s in the middle of trying to figure out whether to continue down in order to investigate, or to make his way back upstairs (Because, truthfully? Who didn’t scream at the busty blondes in horror movies to not investigate the freaky-ass sounds?), when he realizes that the best option is much less difficult to make.

 

“Finn? Are you home?” He waits a few seconds after yelling down the stairs for an answer, but he doesn’t get one.  He’s about to turn around when he hears it again, but this time he knows what it is.  A giggle.  A very familiar giggle.  “Finn, please tell me you aren’t down there naked with Tina. Because it’s the only reason I can think of that you won’t answer me, and I really don’t want to have to see the fallout from _that_.”  Kurt doesn’t _really_ think that he’s got that right, but hey, maybe he’ll get an answer this time.

 

“No! Dude!”  Kurt smiles as Finn’s voice travels up the stairs, filled to the brim with protest.

 

Starting on his way again, Kurt is in the middle of saying, “Then why didn’t you answer, and why-” when he hits the bottom of the stairs and is confronted with twelve pairs of eyes. He doesn’t finish his sentence, doesn’t even get the chance, really, before he’s engulfed in a warm, familiar embrace.  “Mercedes? What’s going on?”

 

Mercedes’ arms are tight around him, and he’s pretty sure if she squeezes much harder he’ll pop right out of his skinny jeans, but he returns the hug just as enthusiastically. “Hey, Kurt,” says Mercedes as she pulls away.

 

“Hey,” he says back, smiles at her, and then looks around the room again, where he can see every member of New Directions sitting and standing in various positions.  “Why are you all here?  Is everything okay?” His brows are pulled in concern, and he sees Quinn, who is sitting sideways across Sam’s lap on the couch, smile sweetly at him. 

 

“Oh, we’re all fine.  It’s you we were all worried about.” Quinn nods at him, her ponytail bobbing with the movement. 

 

“Yeah,” says Puck, who’s leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankle. “Not as magical at gay Hogwarts as you had hoped?”

 

Artie, who’s positioned next to Puck, sends him a glare.  Kurt feels his brows rise again when Puck seems to get the message, and merely rolls his eyes mohawk-ward and keeps quiet. 

 

“Who said anything was wrong? Dalton’s great, the Warblers are fine. Why are you all looking at me like that?  Is this some messed-up kind of intervention?  Because I really don’t need one.” Kurt knows he is getting a bit defensive, can almost feel his proverbial hackles rising.  He really doesn’t want to get into this; not here, not now, not ever. 

 

“We’re just worried about you, dude.  And yeah, this is a bit of an intervention.” Finn’s sitting on the edge of his own bed, with Rachel about a foot to his left.  They must have come to some sort of peace, because this time last week Finn would have been across the room and glowering to his best ability. Kurt knows this because that is exactly what had transpired during their New Year’s party. 

 

“Seriously, Finn? What did you tell them?” Kurt’s cheeks are starting to stain crimson, and it’s moments like this that he wishes his impeccable blushing reflex were less reflexive. Or impeccable.  Really, he must have some sort of disorder; it’s ridiculous.

 

“C’mon man, it’s not like it’s hard to see! You’ve been miserable since you left McKinley.” Finn’s got his ‘I’m an earnest little puppy dog, please don’t hate me’ eyes on, and Kurt is glad that he’s lost every shred of attraction to the man, because last year that look would have melted his insides to goo.

 

“It’s true,” Rachel pipes up. “You haven’t been smiling as much, and you’re obviously upset.”

 

Santana steps forward, crossing her arms and shrugging. “You didn’t even bitch about Berry’s kitten sweater last week.”

 

“It was scary,” Brittany adds helpfully.

 

Kurt huffs out a breath. “So I’m a bit quiet, it happens.  It’s not a cake-walk switching schools mid-semester. And getting used to uniforms, and all that comes with them, is tough.  I happen to enjoy spending an hour picking out the perfect outfit everyday. Not a big deal.”

 

Mercedes, who is practically standing right in front of him, puts a hand to her hip and pulls a face. “Kurt, you aren’t even close to being happy there.  Not like you were with us.”

 

“Oh yes, because I was so happy having to check over my shoulder all the time.  Because it was just invigorating, getting slammed into lockers five times a day. The joy.”  Sarcasm is practically dripping from his words, and Kurt only feels a slight pang of guilt as his best friend’s expression crumples. 

 

“Dude, no way are you laying that on us.  You should have said something! We would have had your back.” Puck has pushed himself away from the wall, but stays across the room. 

 

Looking around the room at the various expressions, Kurt doesn’t see a single face that disagrees.  Even Tina, Mike and Lauren (who he doesn’t really expect to say anything – why is she even here?), who have stayed silent so far, aren’t rising to his defence.  He supposes he shouldn’t expect them to.  Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Rachel’s head nodding. 

 

“Kurt, Puck’s got a point.” Kurt looks at Mercedes imploringly. “We’re a family.  Us Glee kids have got to stick together, and you left us out.  You didn’t ask for help.  We didn’t know how bad it was, not really.”

 

Kurt closes his eyes for a minute, mentally calming himself.  Yelling will not help, snapping a quick insult will not help.  They are not implying what he thinks they are implying. No. Fucking. Way.

 

“Remember last year? During the theatricality assignment Finn wore a red rubber dress made out of a shower curtain for you,” Rachel says.

 

“It was totally hot. And so am I.” The whole group does a quick double-take at Brittany.

 

“Right,” says Rachel as she drags her eyes from the blonde who is positioned in the chair at Kurt’s vanity.  “Though we may not always seem like it, like Mercedes said, we are a family.  We would have protected you.  Before it was too late, I mean.  Sam, Mike and Artie fought for you when it was brought to their attention.” Rachel doesn’t bother to say who by; they all know about the girls’ meeting.

 

“And if I didn’t have juvie hanging over my head, which is a total drag on my badassness, I would have beat the shit out of Karofsky,” Puck points out.

 

Kurt is starting to feel the stares of his old Glee club as a heavy weight, and it reminds him far too much of being confronted by a firing squad. Or an angry, closeted Neandertal whose hands are too hard, and whose lips Kurt wishes he didn’t know. 

 

“You should have come to us, man,” Finn says. “I know I didn’t help right away when the others did, and I’m still sorry about that, but if you’d just said something-”

 

“What?” Kurt snaps out, his voice high and tight. “You would have what?”

 

“Helped you! Jesus, Kurt, what did you think we’d do? Leave you to him?” Finn has his palms up in question.

 

“Maybe I did!” Kurt can feel even more heat infusing his cheeks, and he’s clenching the letterman jacket in his right hand hard enough that his knuckles have gone white. “It’s not like you all have a great track record with helping me out! What’s a little bullying, huh? It obviously sits lower on the list of priorities than a dying parent!”  Kurt is panting a little, and he can’t really believe that he just said that.  Of course it has been rolling around in his mind for months, and yeah he is completely sure of his position, but he’d never planned to actually say anything about it. 

 

Mercedes looks like he had just slapped her across the face, eyes and mouth wide in shock and protest.  “What are you talking about?” she says, astonishment in her tone. “Of course we would have helped you, and we were there for you when your dad was sick.”

 

“No,” he corrects, “you were there for my _immortal soul_ when my dad had his heart attack.”  Laughing with no humour, Kurt shakes his head. “I respect that you believe in God.” He sends a look around the room. “Whichever God that is.  But I don’t. And what I did not need at that time was a prayer circle. What I needed was my best friend, and support that did not involve going against what I believe in.”

 

“We did what we thought was best, Kurt.” Rachel has moved from her place on the bed to stand beside Mercedes, and Kurt finds himself looking down at both girls.  “We gave the support that we thought would help.  Both you and your dad.”

 

Giving a small snort of disbelief, Kurt feels tears building in his eyes, which makes his voice sound choked, tight and small.  “Maybe what I needed was a shoulder to lean on.  Maybe what I needed was a house to stay at.  One that wasn’t empty, and where the fucking electricity didn’t almost get cut-off in.”  He takes a deep, shaking breath and tries to ignore the tears that are starting to drip down his face.  “Maybe what I needed was a hot meal and some company while I sat in the waiting room at the hospital.” 

 

Kurt raises his eyes to the ceiling as an attempt to stop the tears, and sniffles.  There is a silence in the rooms that he wishes weren’t so full of meaning and confusion all at once.

 

“Did you know that Coach Sylvester brought me into her office for more than support on the religion front?” He directs the question at Mercedes, but glances at both Rachel and Quinn.  “Coach Sylvester was the only person -- I don’t mean just friend, or just adult -- who asked me where I was staying.  She was the only one who offered a place to stay until my dad woke up.”  He purposefully doesn’t look at Finn.  His step-brother is probably frowning at the floor right now, trying to remember if he or his mom had offered. 

 

“Kurt…” Mercedes is looking up at him, her eyes starting to brim with tears, too.  “We didn’t know.  We were just doing what we thought would help.”

 

“You didn’t know.” Kurt nods, his lips tight. “True. I didn’t tell you, I didn’t ask for that kind of help specifically.  And sure, maybe I should have.  But none of you offered, either.” 

 

Kurt can see Tina, who is sitting wrapped in Mike’s arms, and her face is starting to streak with tears.  He doesn’t want to hurt his friends, not so bad that they cry, but this has been locked inside for so long. 

 

Turning back to his best friend, Kurt pulls a mockery of a smile onto his face, hoping he doesn’t look too ridiculous or condescending.  “I know I haven’t been the greatest friend lately.  Ever since I met Blaine, you and I have grown apart, and I won’t lie; a lot of that was on me.  But this friendship has been fading for a lot longer than that.  I love you, Mercedes, and you are an amazing person.  But what I have at Dalton, while stifling and far too reminiscent of a gilded cage, will always be better than what my last few months at McKinley were.  No comparison.”

 

When he looks up from Mercedes, his eyes catch on Puck, who is looking at him intensely, but with an emotion that Kurt can’t comprehend. 

 

“I wasn’t happy at McKinley.  Karofsky was the main reason, sure, but it’s not the only one.” He shrugs. “I might not have known it then, but when you can’t go to your friends for help when things get rough because you don’t think they’ll even _care_ , there is something seriously wrong.”  Kurt sighs again, and wipes under both eyes with the knuckles of his left hand.  His body feels heavy, and his head is pounding from the emotional outburst of tears. 

 

“Kurt, man-” Finn starts, but he stops there, mouth slightly open and head shaking from side to side like he just doesn’t know what to say. 

 

Nodding his head in some sort of acknowledgement to himself, Kurt finds that he can’t think of anything else to say.  Not without getting angry again, not without pointing fingers at some issues that he doesn’t think need to be brought up.  So he swallows hard, turns on his heel, and makes his way back up the stairs. 

 

No one calls him back. 

 

When he reaches the top he stops at the kitchen table and writes a note.  It reads simply:

 

 _I’m going to spend the weekend at Dalton.  Sorry I missed dinner.  Love you. – Kurt_

 

As he passes through the living room, Kurt pauses to look down at the letterman jacket still clenched in his fist.  Holding it up with two hands, he lets out a little puff of air.  Number 20.  It’s not even Finn’s. 

 

He places the jacket back where he found it, puts on his boots, and makes his way out to the Navigator, where he starts the engine and sits for a minute. 

 

There are no more tears that come, and he feels completely wiped out.  But, he thinks, that went better than he possibly could have hoped for.  There was no more yelling than what he did, and there was no more physicality than the hug from Mercedes. Even Rachel was fairly quiet in turns.  It’s almost a relief to have said what he did.  Almost.

 

Giving himself a quick shake, Kurt pulls on his seatbelt and puts the Navigator in drive, pulling away from his house and his friends.  They called it a family, and maybe they had been, once.  Or maybe they still were.  But right now all Kurt wants to do is get back to his dorm room, lay down in his bed, and think of nothing.

 

He’ll try calling Mercedes tomorrow. 

 


End file.
